Benidorm ER - Telly Talk

Years ago, there used to be a children's television programme called Why Don't You? with a theme song featuring the line 'why don't you just switch off your television set and go out and do do something less boring instead', or words to that effect.

With the benefit of hindsight, that's exactly what I should have done at the beginning of the first episode of Benidorm ER.

The show is the latest fly-on-the-wall documentary from the channel that loves to shock and entertain by delving into the lives of the most extraordinary people and the most dangerous professions on the planet.

This time it promised a behind-the-scenes look at life in the Clinica Benidorm, a private hospital serving the Spanish resort which thousands of British holidaymakers flock to year after year.

Now don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting ground-breaking, award-winning television that would change my perception of the Costa del Sol for ever. However, I was expecting something vaguely entertaining in a light-hearted 'look at these daft Brits getting so drunk they end up in hospital with ridiculous injuries' kind of way.

But no, this was unremarkable at best, and dull as dishwater at worst.

There were no idiots with self-inflicted drink-related injuries, no dramatic seafront mobility scooter smashes and no real emotion.

The subjects were just normal people on normal holidays which happened to be interrupted by illness or injury.

The first holidaymaker we meet is Stuart, a stag party member who breaks his arm within an hour of arriving by getting out of the pool awkwardly, before he's even had a sniff of alcohol.

Then there is the 21-year-old celebrating her birthday in the sun with her family when she suffers some vague bruising after a mysterious fall. She celebrated the news she had no broken bones with a ride around the town on a scooter dressed as a chicken.

Even less interesting was the pole dancer whose job has led to a spinal injury that requires surgery. As she says herself: "Don't throw yourself round a pole, get a proper job." Do we really, honestly care?

Even actor John Thomson's narration fails to liven up the mood or awaken interest. "Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the pub," is about the height of his comedic contribution.

The only element of real-life drama comes when two children are taken into the hospital suffering from choking on toxic fumes coming from the pool at their hotel. But their case is glossed over and they recover in no time.

Then we get Martin, who passes out and later discovers he has suffered a small brain haemorrhage. He undergoes surgery to fit a pacemaker and is ready to go home within a day. All obviously a huge trauma for his wife and family, but to the viewer is presented as a straightforward and unremarkable case.

In fact, the only remarkable thing about the whole show is the standard of care the patients are offered at Clinica Benidorm.

It is decorated like a hotel, all marble floors and pot plants, and there is not a moment lost in getting people treated as soon as possible. Results from x-rays and scans are almost immediate and any necessary treatment follows shortly afterwards. Staff are courteous and compassionate at all times, there is no language barrier as everyone speaks English, and all the patients are keen to voice how much better it all is than the health service in the UK.

But it is a private hospital, and when the pole dancer calls in for a second opinion at the local health service hospital, the differences become clear. The cameras are refused entry and the exterior looks a lot more like those hospitals in the UK that the holidaymakers are quick to condemn.

How this show was stretched into an hour is beyond me. How does it plan to keep viewers interested for the rest of the series? Well I won't be watching it to find out . . .

Sally-Anne Youll

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